Interview with New York Artist Arlene Rush

Turning Rejection into Artistic Practice

This interview with Arlene Rush was originally written and published by me in Italian on Artribune, the leading Italian magazine for contemporary art. You can read the original version here.

Below is the English translation of the Italian article.

The artist, among the first to establish her studio in Chelsea, tells us what it means to live today in the New York neighborhood under siege by the real estate market, defending her studio, which is not only a private space but the heart of a community.

Arlene Rush poses with her installation “Rejection, Reject, Re…” (2019) at Pen and Brush. (Credits www.arlenerush.com)

There are encounters one never forgets. When I met the New York artist Arlene Rush (USA, 1955, lives in New York), we spent hours talking about art, life, and how some cities stay inside you forever. Sitting at a table, with the coffee cooling between one sentence and the next, I realized that I wasn’t just listening to a personal story, but to a living fragment of the memory, or rather the history, of New York contemporary art.

In the West Chelsea Art Building, Arlene Rush has built, over nearly thirty years, a studio that is at once a place of work, memory, and cultural citizenship. A pioneer in Chelsea since 1986, when the neighborhood was made of warehouses, hand-operated freight elevators, and tough nights, Rush witnessed the arrival of galleries, then urban developments, and finally the real estate pressure that now threatens the building hosting over two-hundred studios and galleries.

Defending that space, for her, is not nostalgia: it is about protecting a shared way of life.

Her conceptual and multidisciplinary practice weaves together rejection and resilience (Evidence of Being), feminism and the changing body, civic activism and participation.

“Art does not live in a vacuum” is her guiding principle: the works are born from reality and return to people, opening uncomfortable but necessary conversations.

This interview follows the thread of the studio as a root, rejection as a common language, and the concrete challenges of making art in New York today.

Interview with Artist Arlene Rush

Your studio in Chelsea has been a place of creation and community for decades. What does it represent today, as it risks disappearing?

It’s my continuity and my independence. I’ve invested work, affection, and memory here. Losing it would be like dismantling an identity built over time. I’m not speaking only for myself: spaces like this hold a city together, allowing people to meet and witness the birth of art.

In your work you often address rejection and exclusion. How did you turn personal experiences into a shared language?

By speaking about them without filters. I exhibited my rejection letters because I wanted to show the hidden side of artistic work. When people read them, they say “me too”: they realize they’re not alone. That’s where community begins,  not consolation, but a new strength to keep going.

Arlene Rush - Silver Lining Installation 2018 (Credits www.arlenerush.com)

“Evidence of Being” has become a symbol of transparency. How does the public react to those letters?

With empathy. Some are moved, some add their own stories, others realize how unempathetic the system can be. Some would rather forget, but for many it’s cathartic: rejection changes form and becomes energy, an invitation to look for alternative paths and personal power.

From steel sculpture to installations, texts, and participatory practices: how would you define your practice today?

I don’t like labels. The idea determines the material. Today I explore time and memory, aging and the impermanence of the body, especially the female body and its social perception. I’m interested in a clear, honest metaphor, rooted in real life, capable of speaking to as many people as possible.

The sale of the West Chelsea Arts Building is a strong signal. What can concretely be done to protect these spaces?

We need nonprofit models and tax incentives that make it worthwhile to preserve studios. Artists don’t “gentrify” by vocation: they move where there’s space, bring life, and then get pushed out. Chelsea doesn’t need another café, but places where art is made and shared.

Feminism runs throughout your work. What have you learned over time, also in relation to prejudice?

When I started, I signed my works “A. Rush” to avoid prejudice in the steel sculpture field. Then, after about a year, I reclaimed my full name, asserting the presence of a woman. It was both a political and a personal choice. Women artists exist, they age, they change: I want that to be visible, even when it doesn’t fit the standard.

During the pandemic you sewed masks, worked online, and even with NFTs. What is the relationship between art and current events in your work?

For me, art is action and relationship. I open conversations about justice, rights, and fragility. I’ve been discriminated against for my Jewish origins, even though I never felt deeply connected to that culture or religion. What has truly shaped my life and my research is Buddhism, which I’ve practiced and studied since 1992, along with meditation. My university studies in philosophy of religion also taught me to remain in question, to cultivate curiosity and openness. All of this naturally flows into my work.

Arlene Rush - All I Hear is the Symphony 2023-2024 (Credits www.arlenerush.com)

In such a competitive and digital system, how do you define “success”?

I ask myself that often. I’m not where I imagined I would be, but I’ve maintained a living practice, a studio, curiosity, exhibitions, real exchanges. That, to me, is success. It’s not a prize, it’s continuity. When I see it that way, I’m at peace. The rest depends on many factors we can’t control.

What are today’s biggest challenges personal and collective — for those working in New York?

Space and time. Rents are unaffordable, materials expensive, and it’s hard to find assistants. Even delivering a work amid traffic and crowds can be complex. The housing crisis affects everyone. Defending one’s studio means defending the very possibility of working with dignity.

What was Chelsea like in the 1980s, and how do you see it now?

It was rough and industrial. I needed a fireproof building and a freight elevator for steel. Over time, galleries arrived, then the High Line and tourism. Today it’s busier and louder, the sky covered by tall buildings. The view has changed, and so has the way one inhabits the neighborhood.

Your studio is also a community. What is at risk of being lost with its closure?

Everyday life: half-open doors, spontaneous visits, exchanges between neighbors. With the influx of businesses, things have cooled down, but the bonds remain. The building’s sale has united us. It’s one of the last cultural infrastructures of this scale in Manhattan. Without it, the city loses its possibilities for encounter and culture.

What advice would you give to emerging Italian artists struggling to find space and visibility?

Keep a flexible job that protects your time and freedom, don’t chase validation alone. Study the galleries, build relationships, network with other artists. Above all, keep working. If something doesn’t work, start again. The story of your career is the one you create yourself.

Arlene Rush - Sum of the Whole 2005 - Resin and fibreglass (Credits www.arlenerush.com)

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• Arlene Rush — Purity of Art and Being
• The Curriculum of Rejections